


Red Dead Revelation

by Author_of_Kheios



Category: Red Dead Redemption 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:44:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Author_of_Kheios/pseuds/Author_of_Kheios
Summary: The damned traitor Micah is dead and Dutch, the flip-flopping bastard, has dropped off the face of the earth again, so John has finally gotten his happy ending.Until Abigail leaves. Again. And before John can figure out what to do next, Charles returns in hopes of getting some advice with a... troublesome problem.





	1. Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> I said I would! I doubt this will be nearly as popular as Tread Softly, but I'm not expecting it to be anyway; this is mostly to satisfy my itch for a certain pairing in RDR2, which means I won't be taking any requests or ideas like I am in Tread Softly. 
> 
> Also, since I am broke college kid, and thus cannot afford the game myself, this is based on the playthrough I watched done by Cartoonz on YouTube. I'm not sure if there are alternate endings or not, but I'm sure there are some details to Toonzie's playthrough that aren't in other playthroughs, and likewise some details that aren't in his that were in others, so bear that in mind, if you would.

## Prologue

“Abigail!” I almost trip in my hurry to follow her. “Abigail, wait!”

“I can’t do it anymore, John,” she says sharply, stopping and whirling so fast I almost run into her. “I thought you said you were done with that!”

“I had to!” I insist, for the third time. “I was protecting us!”

“No more killing people, John; what’s so hard about that??” she demands stubbornly.

“They attacked us first, Abigail,” I return, standing my ground. I’ll give on a lot, but not on this. “This is my home; you’re my home, you and Jack, even Rufus and Uncle. I built this place for you!”

“You hunted them down when you coulda just ran them off!” she snaps, still gnawing at the same bone as she turns and strides off again, heaving her bag into the back of the wagon in the yard.

“You don’t think I tried that?” I ask, incredulous. We told her what happened to Uncle, what these Skinner bastards did to him. I gotta remind her already? “The last time I simply ran ‘em off, they took Uncle and about roasted him alive! Tell her, Unc!” I look around for him, but the little rat has scurried off somewhere, like he generally does when me and Abigail get going. “Sh- Abigail, please!”

“I’m done, John,” she says shortly, pushing Jack’s bag into the wagon as well. “Jack, Rufus, come on!”

“Comin’, Ma. Rufus! Come!” Jack trots over, and Rufus bounds around the corner of the house with a yap, tail wagging.

“Now you just wait a moment, Jack,” I say, holding out an arm to block him, trying to get another minute to change Abigail’s mind. “Come on, Abigail... Whatever happened to ‘for better or worse’?”

“That don’t give you no right to go risking your life every time I turn around,” she retorts coldly. “I ain’t aiming to be a widow, John. I buried you too many goddamn times. Jack! In the wagon, now!”

“Sorry, sir,” Jack mutters, not looking at me as he sidesteps me and climbs into the wagon.

“W- Jack... Abigail, please...” I catch her arm as she turns to climb up as well. “Don’t leave me again... I love you.”

She eyes me hard for a long moment, lips pressed in a tight line. Then she sighs heavily, and my heart leaps for joy.

Until she pulls the ring from her finger.

“I love you too, John,” she says softly, a note of regret in her voice. “That’s why I can’t stay. I can’t watch you chase death, not again. Not when I got a son to care for.”

“Abigail...” My heart is breaking, but I can’t say anything; I’m dumbstruck as she pushes the ring into my hand and curls my fingers around it.

“I’m sorry.” Turning away from me, she climbs into the wagon and grabs the reins, keeping her gaze resolutely on the road as she snaps them down on the horse’s flank and clicks her tongue.

I watch, frozen with disbelief, while the wagon rattles down the road and out the gate.

That’s the third time I’ve lost her. Somehow, someway, I’ve screwed up _three_ goddamn times. Three!!

And I thought... I thought the ring would be enough.

After I took care of Micah, and Dutch dropped off the face of the earth, again, that life was left behind us. Permanently. I’d even sell my guns except there’s still bad people out there, people like the Skinner gang just waiting for homesteaders like me to let down their guard.

Like hell I’d let anything happen to Jack like happened to Uncle.

Why couldn’t Abigail see I did what I did to protect her? To protect Jack?

“Goddamnit!” I kick at the dirt, fury burning through my veins. “What the hell am I supposed to do now??”

I look down at the ring sitting in the palm of my glove.

Arthur’s ring.

Hell, what I wouldn’t give to be able to talk to him right now, to ask how I’m supposed to convince Abigail I been trynna do right by her...

“I need a damn drink... Uncle!” Shoving the ring in Arthur’s satchel ― all these years and I still think of it as Arthur’s ― I head inside to find the old bastard and make sure he’s gonna watch over the ranch while I go drown myself for a bit.

 

 

 

## Chapter 1:  
Revelation

“Y’ alright there, mister?” the bartender asks when I motion him over for another round. “That there’s your tenth drink in an hour... Ya wanna slow down a bit?”

“No,” I grunt, tapping the glass commandingly on the counter. “I’m paying, so fill it up already.”

“I really think you oughta take a minute and let it settle, buddy,” he insists. Already frustrated that I’m not drunk enough to forget my problems, I grab his lapel and almost drag him over the bar.

“Fill the damn cup, bastard, or I’ll fill your skull with lead.”

“Alright, alright!” he says quickly, patting the air. “J- just... calm down, man...”

“John?” someone pipes up just as I let the cloth slide out from between my fingers, settling back in my chair while the bartender hastily fills my glass.

“Fuck off,” I growl, not even bothering to look up and see who called me.

“Wow, you must be really down.” Charles slips into the seat next to me and gestures at the bartender.

Charles?

“...Aren’t you supposed to be up north?” I mutter, knocking back half my glass and pausing to let the sharp liquid flow down my throat and leave a trail of warmth down to my stomach before finishing it off.

“Mm. I was,” Charles sighs as I set the glass down. I wait, but he doesn’t say anything else, so I glance over, blinking when my vision blurs at the movement.

“And...?” I prompt, focusing on him until the floating doubles merge into one. He sighs again, sipping whatever the bartender got for him and staring at the bottles behind the bar.

“I dunno. Didn’t fit. Something...” He hesitates, and my slogged mind tries to fill in the blank, too slow; he shakes his head and continues before I can come up with anything. “I learned something about myself I didn’t know. It was... unsettling... being in a place I didn’t know and suddenly having a revelation, you know?”

He goes quiet again, thoughtful, and I don’t interrupt the silence. If he wants to say more, that’s on him.

And I can’t think straight enough to come up with questions anyway.

“The whole time I was trying to settle in, I kept thinking of this place as home,” he speaks up after a minute, staring now at the barely touched glass in his hand.

I need another. I raise my hand for the bartender, but it occurs to me, somewhat belatedly, that Charles is pouring his heart out, and I probably shouldn’t be any drunker than I already am, or else I can’t listen. So I don’t bother hailing the bartender again when he pretends he didn’t see me.

“This place?” I grunt, pushing my glass out of the way to lay my head on the bar. “This mess of a city? We had huge bounties on us here.” He humphs in amusement, taking another sip.

“Yeah, we did. Those were some crazy days, weren’t they?”

“Crazy is a’ understatement... How long’s it been?”

“Since the days of the gang, or since I left?” he chuckles, nudging my side lightly.

“Both,” I huff, elbowing him back and almost falling into him in the process. He puts a steadying hand on my shoulder, laughing softly.

“Jesus, you’re drunk, aren’t you?” I shrug, not willing to go into it right now.

“Y’ didn’t answer.”

“Just a year or so since I left, and maybe seven or eight since the gang fell apart,” he replies, his grip on my shoulder tightening for a moment before sliding away.

“Eight years,” I mutter, rubbing my hands over my face. “Feels like a goddamn lifetime.”

Silence falls again, but it doesn’t last long.

“...I heard about Abigail,” he says quietly. Sloshed as I am, I can still feel him watching me. Dropping my hands, I heave a heavy sigh.

“Not the first time she’s up and left,” I grumble, trying to pretend it doesn’t bother me.

“But you two were married this time,” he points out. “Like, really married. Officially. That didn’t make a difference?”

Thrusting my hand clumsily into Arthur’s satchel, I fumbled about for the ring and tossed it on the bar.

“What’s it look like?”

“Oh shit, man...” He picks it up gingerly and then sets it back down, in front of me. “I’m sorry, John.”

“Don’t matter,” I grunt. “She’ll come back. Just... just gotta prove I’ve changed. Eight years is a long time, Charles. A long time.”

“I know. But... Look, John, maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but she gave the ring back. Don’t you think that says something?”

“Says what?” I growl, irritation mounting.

“I dunno; I’m just saying...” He glances significantly at the ring. “From where I’m sitting, it don’t look like she’s coming back this time.”

“The hell you say?” I stomp to my feet, and immediately the room begins spinning. Next thing I know, Charles is tapping my jaw sharply, and something hard is pressed to my back.

“John. John, come on; wake up, man.”

“‘M awake...” I groan, swatting away his hand. Dazed, I realise then that I’m on the ground. “What happened?”

“You passed out,” Charles scoffs, faintly amused. “You’re way too drunk, John. Come on; let’s get you up to one of the rooms so you can sleep it off.” He grabs my arm and drags me to my feet.

“No... Need to get back to the ranch...”

“No way you’re making it that far,” he snorts. “Don’t worry; I’ll go back and make sure Uncle doesn’t burn the ranch down. You just stay here until you can walk straight again, alright? And leave the bill to me.”

He ignores my continued protests, helping me up the stairs and into a room and sitting me on the bed.

“Come on; get your shoes and belt off,” he says, stepping back. I groan and fall back on the bed, not wanting to move.

Damn, this is surprisingly soft...

“John. Come on.” I raise a hand and manage to curl all but a finger at him, and he chuckles. “You’re a stubborn ass, you know that? Alright, I’ll do it for you then.” I grunt dismissively, and he nudges my hip to get at the buckle for my belt. After yanking that out from under me, he tugs at my boots, setting them aside.

I’m half asleep by the time he grabs my ankles and drags them around to lay me out properly on the bed. A thought occurs to me suddenly as he shakes out the folded blanket and lays it over me.

“Wha’ wazzit?” I slur, catching his wrist when he turns to leave.

“What was what?” he asks, head tilting curiously.

“The thing,” I mutter, chasing the fleeting memory of what he said downstairs. “The... You fig’rd some’n out...” He falters, taking my hand away from his wrist and setting it on my chest. His hand stays on mine for a moment longer than necessary, and then he sighs.

“What the hell?” he mutters softly. “You’re probably too drunk to remember this in the morning anyway... I... I might find men as attractive as women. I haven’t... tested it yet, but... Let’s just say something happened while I was up north.”

“Oh. Tha’s nice, Charles,” I manage through a yawn. If he says anything else, I don’t hear it; I got my answer, and now I wanna sleep.


	2. Accidents

## Chapter 2:   
Accidents

My head hurts.

The hell did I do last night, drink the whole damn bar?

I sit up slowly, hoping to keep my head from falling off.

It works. Mostly; I have to sit on the edge of the bed and cradle my head in my hands for a long while before my head stops pounding hard enough to explode if I so much as cough.

Someone left a glass and a pitcher of water on the nightstand, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks as I pour some and about drown myself in my rush to get something wet down my dry-as-a-desert throat. Two cups later, I’m too full to drink another, but my tongue isn’t stuck to the roof of my mouth anymore, so I call it a win and look around for my stuff.

My belt is hooked on the foot of the bed, and my boots are right below it. Arthur’s satchel is hanging same as the belt, and a quick search turns up nothing missing. Even Arthur’s ring is still here.

Good. So I didn’t get in a fight, and nobody robbed me.

But no way in hell I got myself up here and took off anything on my own.

The bartender...?

No chance; he was giving me wary looks from the moment I came in. So who...?

CHARLES. That’s right; I was probably at the bottom of a bottle when he came in, and I asked him why he wasn’t up north. He said...

Gah, my head hurts from thinking too much; I’ll just ask him again if I see him. I have this feeling that he’s gonna be around for a bit, but I can’t say why. Probably something he said that I can’t remember.

Putting on my belt and boots, I sling the satchel over my shoulder as I leave and head down to pay for the drinks and the room.

“Oh, don’t worry none,” the bartender says cheerfully. It’s the same guy as last night, and if he’s this happy, I must not have done any damage. “Your friend paid off your drinks and covered the room for a night; it’s all taken care of.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he nods. “Real friendly fellow, he was. Said you get a bit testy when you’re real drunk, and told me to tell you he went up to your ranch.”

“Well thanks,” I say appreciatively. “Have a good day.”

“You too.”

I guess it’s back to the ranch.

And of course, Uncle’s doing nothing when I arrive, keeping my horse to a walk because anything faster hurts my head.

“Why aren’t you working, you lazy old ass?” I call out to him as I carefully dismount and hitch my horse to the post by the porch.

“I- I was!” he protests quickly, standing abruptly from where he was lounging on a chair by the front door. “I just, uh, had to rest a moment, see? On account o’ my lumbago.”

“Right,” I scoff, head throbbing too much to deal with his shit right now. “Charles here?”

“Oh! Yeah! He’s out... milking the cow, I think. Or maybe feeding the chickens by now.”

“Real helpful, old man,” I say, shaking my head just a bit. “Go make yourself useful for once, would you?” Leaving him to that, I go to the barn to find Charles. He’s not there, so I head for the chicken coop, and spot him just as he’s coming out. “Charles!”

“Hey,” he grins, closing the gate behind him and setting the feed bag next to the coop. “I was just about to collect the eggs and take them to the wagon. It’s kinda nice to be back in a routine like this, you know? I didn’t realise how much I missed it.”

“What brought you back?” I ask, grabbing two egg crates and handing him one. “I vaguely remember asking last night, but I was too shit-faced to really remember anything else.” He huffs a quick breath that sounds like relief, but I can’t think why.

“Just didn’t fit,” he answers simply. “Kept thinking of this place as home, so I came back to do a little... soul-searching, I guess. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Course not!” I tsk, gathering eggs out of the nests and nestling them gingerly in the crates. “You know you’re welcome here anytime, for as long as you like. Sadie too, but... Well, last I heard, she was boarding a ship heading for... Mexico, I think it was.”

“That’s what I heard too,” he nods. “I-” An egg slips from his hand and he curses, snatching for it and missing. It lands with a wet splat on the floor, spilling orangish goop all over, and Charles throws up his hands. “I’m sorry, John...”

“No worries,” I chuckle, grabbing a bucket full of gunky shells from the corner and pulling a dirty rag from its hook by the door. “Jack drops at least one a day, and...” I trail off, remembering the reason behind my binge last night. Gritting my teeth, and taking perverse pleasure in the way it makes the dull throb of my hangover worse, I scoop up the mess and flick it into the bucket, gathering all the pieces of shell before using the rag to wipe up the rest.

“I’m sorry, John,” Charles says again, in a different tone now. “I don’t think...”

“She’s coming back,” I cut in firmly, refusing to believe anything else. I stand and go to pick up the bucket just as Charles does the same, and our hands collide.

“Sorry,” we say at the same time. My mood lightens and I chuckle while he smiles.

“I got it,” he says. “I’ll finish up here. You should go have some breakfast; how long has it been since you ate last?”

“‘Bout a day,” I admit, letting him move the bucket back to the corner and take the rag to hang it up.

“You need to eat, John,” he chides, pushing me toward the door. “Go on. I’ll finish gathering the eggs and put them in the wagon, and then I’ll come join you. Save some food for me.”

“No promises there’ll be any for you in the first place,” I scoff. “Abigail might not have been the best cook, but she did most of it anyway. I mostly burn stuff.”

“Well, try not to burn it too much, how ‘bout that?” His gaze skims me up and down, presumably sizing me up on my cooking skills, and I wave him off.

“I’ll try. Don’t drop any more eggs, alright?”

“Yes, Dad,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes and going back in the coop.

I’m almost back to the house when I feel someone watching me and glance around. Charles drops his gaze the instant I meet it, setting the crate in his hands down just outside the coop and going back for the other. Frowning, I go inside to make some food.

Something’s up with him, I know it. The question is, what?


	3. Enough

## Chapter 3:  
Enough

It’s been a week and I still don’t know what’s up with Charles.

Then again, I don’t even really know what’s up with Uncle half the time; I’m not all that good at the whole... talking thing. Not when it comes to feelings and whatnot. Still, it’s about time I had a sit down with Charles, if only to keep my mind off the fact that I haven’t heard a damn thing from Abigail yet.

“Hey, Charles; got a minute?” I call out as he dismounts after making a run into town for some meat for tonight’s dinner. Fortunately, Uncle has a hidden talent for cooking. Not the greatest talent, and well hidden, but better than anything I’ve managed so far; at least he’s finally making himself useful, even if he does eat a good chunk of the food before it even makes it to the table.

“Sure,” Charles nods with a smile, taking the sack from the back of his horse. “Just let me take this in to Uncle, and I’ll be right back.”

“No problem,” I say easily, ignoring the tight coil of nerves in my gut. “Come out to the barn when you can; I’ll be mucking.” He falters for an instant, shifting his weight uneasily, but nods.

“Yeah. Be out in a minute.”

I get so caught up in mucking out the stalls that I almost forget I asked him to meet me, and when he speaks up, I jump sky high.

“Hey.” He grins at my reaction, leaning on the stall door while I try to play it off.

“Think you could make a little noise when you walk, Charles? Or you tryna make your Native American ancestors proud?”

“Maybe,” he chuckles, shrugging. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You wanted to talk?”

Here goes nothing. I set the mucking fork carefully against the wall, taking a breath and not looking at him, as if that will lessen my rudeness for even asking.

“You been... real quiet since you got back,” I point out cautiously, trying to figure out how best to phrase this that won’t make him clam up. “Is there... anything... you wanna talk about?”

Already, I’m regretting this. He ain’t smiling anymore.

“To be honest,” he sighs heavily, “there’s a lot I wanna talk about.”

“But...?” I prompt, sitting on the stall door beside him so we’re facing the same way. He glances up at me and then inspects the bare corner of the stall where I was getting ready to put down fresh hay.

“But... I don’t know how. I’m not... good with words.”

“Well, me neither; I won’t hold it against you,” I offer, hopeful that I might be making progress.

“It’s... It’s more than that,” he admits, standing and turning around to lean back on his hands. I’m tempted to turn too, but I’m afraid I might scare him off.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m... It’s like... I guess I’m just worried,” he says, crossing his arms. “About how you’ll react.”

“Me?” I raise my brows, turning now because I’m too damn curious for my own good.

“Yeah, you,” he grunts, looking out the barn door so I can’t see his face. “And Uncle, and... everyone, really.”

“Everyone? How do you mean?” I ask, confused now.

“I mean... I don’t know what I mean,” he says, annoyed. “I haven’t even really figured it out myself.”

“Figured... what out?”

He goes quiet for a long time, long enough for me to wonder if I pushed too hard. When he shifts and lets out a sharp breath, rubbing at his temple, I immediately regret everything.

“Look, Charles, if you don-”

“I’m interested in men,” he cuts in abruptly, startling me. “I think.”

“You... what?” I’m utterly speechless. He glances sidelong at me, hesitant.

“You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember?” I echo stupidly, perplexed.

“I told you already. While you were drunk. I might be as interested in men as I am in women.” Now that he’s mentioned it, I vaguely ― very vaguely ― remember something like that.

“No, I... Sorry, I’m j- Wow...” Bending to rest my elbows on the door, I scrub my hands over my face, trying to wrap my head around this bombshell of information. “When, uh... When did you...?”

“While I was up north,” he sighs heavily, crossing his arms a little tighter over his chest. He’s still nervous, and if I’m not careful, he may still clam up, or bolt, or both. He shakes his head, and adds, “Maybe a month ago? I’m not sure; I took my time coming back.”

“What... happened?” I ask hesitantly. For a long moment, he says nothing, and I hold my breath, certain that if I so much as cough, he’s gone.

“I was... having it out with a girl up there,” he says finally. “I really liked her, but her brother... Let’s just say he didn’t trust me at all. Told me as much; got all up in my face about it once, and I just... I had enough, so I took a swing and laid him out. Apparently I broke his jaw, and... well... she didn’t want to talk to me after that. So I went drinking.”

“I rubbed off on you, huh?” I scoff, unable to help myself. He gives a humourless laugh.

“Or I rubbed off on you. Anyway, this... kid came up to me at the bar. Kinda looked like her; same colour hair, same eyes, but... at the same time, real different, you know? Figured it was the drink that had me thinking like that. He was friendly, and offered to help me get to the hotel across the street so I didn’t collapse in the middle of the road and get run over. I took him up on it, and once I was on the bed, I fumbled around for a tip. Thought that’s what he wanted in the first place. Next thing I know, I...” He breaks off, colour flooding his face; I can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or all out shame, but I think I can see where this is going, and I sympathise, feeling a touch of heat crawl up my neck. Clearing his throat, he goes on, “Next thing I know, he’s got his mouth on me, and... and I’m not stopping him. He was asleep when I woke up, and I just... left. I couldn’t handle it.”

“So you came back here...” I offer, catching on the last bit so I don’t have to talk about the kid, “for what? So you wouldn’t have to see him again? That’s going a little far, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Charles admits, brow furrowed. “But...”

“Jesus, there’s more?” I huff, rubbing my hands over my face again.

“That’s not why I came back,” he continues, like I didn’t say anything. “I mean, I guess that’s part of it, but I could have gone anywhere to get away from him. I came back here because...” He breaks off, making a sound at the back of his throat like he’s just realising that he’s actually talking to someone, and then he gives a little cough, shifting uneasily. “I came here because it feels like home.”

That’s bullshit, and we both know it. But hell if I’m gonna call him on it after he dropped everything else on me.


End file.
